


Heart in a Headlock

by Das_Hazel



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Violence, Bottom Malcolm Bright, Case Fic, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Gil Arroyo is Pinoy, Ian Edgerton is Pinoy, M/M, Malcolm Bright Whump, Polyamory, Protective Gil Arroyo, Protective Ian Edgerton, Self-cest, Slow Burn, Threesome - M/M/M, exes to friends to lovers, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Das_Hazel/pseuds/Das_Hazel
Summary: When a serial sniper targets socialites in New York, Ian Edgerton pops up to help.Malcolm never told anyone about his casual relationship with Edgerton, nor did he mention he was sleeping with a man who was basically Gil's doppelganger. But the further Malcolm dives into this case, the more his life is at risk, and Ian and Gil will do anything to protect him.**tags will be updated but the violence is strictly about the case, so no sexual violence.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Ian Edgerton, Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright/Ian Edgerton, Malcolm Bright/Ian Edgerton
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'll be in the middle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280787) by [holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys). 



> Oh boy, I thank Prodigal Son and the fandom so much for getting me back into writing. This is the first time in years I've written this much. This fic is technically completed but I've split it into parts. I plan to update every Tuesday as to fill in the blank spaces of the PSon hiatus for this month. 
> 
> I was heavily inspired by Holyfudgemonkey's I'll be in the middle and the developing relationship between Ian and Malcolm, and how it eventual leads to Ian/Malcolm/Gil. But to everyone who has written Ian/Malcolm thank YOU.
> 
> This starts off with Ian/Malcolm but does develop into Ian/Malcolm/Gil. 
> 
> Takes place after Internal Affairs but before Wait & Hope
> 
> This fic was also inspired and referenced by the following shows and their episodes:  
> Criminal Minds: LDSK/Minimal Loss  
> Numb3rs: Sniper Zero/Angels and Devils/Ultimatum

* * *

Frankly, Malcolm is very offended. He’s rarely offended, because his entire life has people dedicated to personally attacking him. He’s been speculated as a murderer by police, when he was eleven, then again when he was seventeen, and even his own supervisors at Quantico. Their words (and punches) hurt, yes, but never really offended him.

No, he’s offended now because Lieutenant Gil Arroyo really thinks he can keep Malcolm Bright away from a crime scene. He’s told Dani, JT, and Edrisa to not contact him in any cases, and to alert other officers if he’s nearby. 

Ainsley is unintentionally his way in when she texts him that morning. Two old classmates of Malcolm, whose names he didn’t recognize, were holding a charity benefit. They came from old money and therefore had contact with the Miltons once upon a time. After the arrest of The Surgeon, his mother’s connections with New York’s socialites have dwindled to almost none. Jessica had called Ainsely, ranting how she was not invited to the benefit despite the Milton family owning the hotel, and Jessica helped secure a reservation years in advance. He didn’t think anything of it until reports of gunfire from the waterfront hotel sent people in a panic. 

Ainsley is on the scene in less than ten minutes. Despite his stitches and hand in a cast, Malcolm makes it there in twenty. 

The top of the hotel is an air-open ballroom for parties with a full kitchen and pool. The ground is occupied by police and news vans, when he noticed one officer placing his hat on the hood of a car in order to prepare for an interview with Ainsley. Keeping his head down Malcolm swoops the hat, as Ainsley begins her news update, and walks past the other officers unnoticed. He makes his way up to the top floor, right at the crime scene. 

It’s a mess, to say the least. Chairs and tables tossed over, food thrown on the floor, some shoes missing--evidence of a panic stampede to the only exit, a small hallway and elevator exactly where Malcolm just came from. The hotel isn’t the tallest building in the area, and with three other buildings surrounding it any of the structures could have been the shooter’s spot. 

The victim is in the middle of the ballroom, lying face down with an entry wound behind his head. There’s another pool of blood that drags to the exit. From what Ainsley has so far reported, the second victim is taken to the hospital, though no information if she’s survived. 

Malcolm spins on his heels to take a quick look at the other high rises when Dani approaches him. Her head’s down, focused on her notepad. “No bullet fragments were found here, though there’s some scattered metal shards around the victim's body. Can you collect them for Dr. Tanaka?”

Malcolm coughs, and tries to get his voice to go deeper. “Ah, yes Detective Powell.” He attempts to walk past her, but she grabs his shoulder and spins him around, removing his hat in the process. “Uh, hi?”

“Bright?” She asks, head tilted and a smirk forming on her face. “And what are you doing here?”

“I, uh, rented a room for tonight? But you know what I think I’ll check out instead so if you’ll excuse--ow, ow, Dani please--”

She pulls him by the ear and drags him over to Gil and JT. JT doesn’t even try to hide his amusement, while Gil shakes his head and rubs the crease between his eyes. “Really, Bright? How did you even get past my guys?”

“If I tell you then you’d know how to stop me next time.”

Gil rolls his eyes. “Go home kid, strap yourself to your bed if you have to. We can take it from here.”

“But it’s a sniper, right? Have you guys figured out where he shot from?”

“The case’s just begun Bright, but you need rest.” Gil says. “Don’t make me call your mother.”

Dani snorts, but Malcolm shakes his head. “Okay but listen, just from where the victim’s body is, it has to at least be one of those two buildings.” Malcolm says, pointing to two buildings directly across from the hotel. “Most likely between stories 20-30, and with the wind speeds tonight he’d have to be shooting from the right part of the building--well uh our right hotel left--assuming we’re going by how he’s facing the hotel.”

JT makes a sound that indicates he’s impressed with the conclusion, though he has to ask. “How do you know he’s male?”

“Majority of long distance killers are.” Malcolm says with a shrug, “The bureau’s never been able to build a proper profile since this type of killing is rare, but from past cases they’re usually male.” With his good hand he takes out the scope of a sniper rifle from his jacket pocket and looks through it. “He’s most likely left already, but we should definitely be looking…”

“Kid, you are not part of the ‘we’ tonight...” He hears Gil say, though he isn’t listening once he locks eyes on a man, standing on a balcony. He should panic, thinking it’s the shooter, but even from this far away Malcolm recognizes him. He’s wearing sunglasses, a leather jacket, and a black v-neck paired with jeans. The man waves to Malcolm as he takes out his cellphone.

Malcolm’s own phone begins to ring. The Caller ID shows  _ Ian _ , and Malcolm swallows nervously, unsure if he can hide his giddiness from reading the man’s name after months of not seeing him. He uses his cast hand to hold his scope, and answers with his good hand. 

“ _ It’s been a while, pretty boy. Nice eye, glad to see you’ve kept my lessons in mind.” _

Malcolm huffs out a laugh. “You were a good teacher.”

_ “Tell your team to come up, got evidence he shot from this exact room.” _

Ian hangs up before Malcolm can say more. He turns to Gil with a guilty smile. “Uh, that was the FBI. They found the room where the shooter was stationed.”

Gil blinks, confused by an extra hand in the case. “FBI, what’s Swanson doing here?”

“Oh not, Swanson. He’s uh...I think it’s best to talk to him yourself.” But then Malcolm inwardly cringes, because he rarely talks about his days with the bureau, much less his personal relationships with a man who looks identical to Gil. “Just keep an open mind.”

Ian texts him the exact floor and room number, so Malcolm leads them over. Their way to the building over is quick with a few more protests from Dani insisting he go home to rest. “Trust me, I need to be here for this.” 

The door to the hotel room is propped open, though no police officers are inside. There are yellow tags on several parts of the room and on the floor. Marked near the bed looks like to be a partial make out of a footprint. The balcony’s sliding door is also wide open, with a few more yellow tags on the concrete. Leaning on the rail, arms crossed over his chest and a case file in his hand, is Special Agent Ian Edgerton with a lollipop in his mouth. He pops it out, loudly, and Malcolm can see how the dye stained his tongue and lips red. 

Malcolm tires to not let his mouth go dry. 

“Didn’t tell me you’re NYPD now,” Ian says as he takes a step forward as he removes his sunglasses. “I would have called to let you know I was coming…”

Ian quickly trails off when he finally makes eye contact with Gil. Malcolm holds his breath as Dani and JT take a look as well, and their eyes go between Gil and Ian. 

Ian’s the first to break the silence with a simple, “Huh.” He looks surprised, but his face isn’t giving much else. 

“Malcolm?” Gil says, his voice tight and clearly waiting for an explanation, like it’s his fault Malcolm knows his doppelganger.

“This is Special Agent Ian Edgerton.” Malcolm says, “My sniper instructor back in Quantico.” 

He decides to leave out the detail that Ian is his ex...whatever the hell they were.

They never put a label on it. 

“Ian, this is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo, and Detectives Powell and Tarmel.” Malcolm continues. “I just consult for the NYPD.”

Having Gil and Ian in the same room, standing face to face, is both a wet dream and a nightmare. Last he saw Ian, he had shorter hair, looking rougher than he normally does since he was fighting the bureau over a case he handled less than professional. His hair has gotten a little longer now, though not quite as wavy as Gil’s. He looks less stressed at least. 

Still, the resemblance to each other is uncanny. 

If Gil shaved, he’d be identical to Ian with the only real resemblance between the two are their outfit choices. Ian never goes anywhere without a leather jacket, while Gil has a coat or sweater, even in the summer. Even their voices sound alike, especially when they say Malcolm’s name. 

JT snaps a picture, and when they turn to him, he just shrugs. “Just thought Tally would get a kick out of this.”

“Right,” Ian says, finally shaking off the shock. “If you don’t mind I’d like to help. I’ve been trailing him from the west, maybe connected to several shootings in other states.” He hands Gil the case file. “Potentially started in San Diego, two more in New Jersey, and now here.” 

Gil takes a quick passover and rubs his head. Malcolm peeks at the files, quickly noting the victims. Always a couple, married, the man shot in the head, the woman in the abdomen. 

Gil closes the files before Malcolm can read anymore, giving Malcolm a pointed look. Malcolm just returns it. “Fine, I’ll read it at the station.”

“You,” Gil says, “Are supposed to be at home talking to Sunshine.” 

“Actually,” Ian interrupts, “I’d like to get Malcolm’s opinion. Two profilers are better than one, and he was the best profiler in the bureau.”

Malcolm shoots Gil a triumphant smile, and Gil just rolls his eyes. 

Ian pulls out a wrapped lollipop from his pocket and taps it on Malcom’s head. “Don’t get cocky there pretty boy.” Ian says, handing it to him. “You were only the third best shot in the class.” 

Leave it to Ian to bring his ego down a peg, though never out of malice. Malcolm just sticks the lollipop in his mouth while Dani and JT snicker behind him. 

Since he took an uber to the scene, Malcolm jumps into Ian’s car to give directions to their office, while JT and Dani go with Gil. Malcolm tries not to think too hard how Gil stares at them, a little too long, before he gets into the driver seat. 

Ian waits until Gil finally drives off when he turns over to Malcolm, holding Malcolm’s chin between his thumb and index finger. He takes out the lollipop with his other hand and leans forward, capturing Malcolm’s lips in a hard and sugary kiss. Malcolm closes his eyes and instinctively opens his mouth, allowing Ian to push his tongue in and taste him. A pathetic and desperate noise slips out of Malcolm, and he knows because he feels Ian smirk into the kiss, and still wears it when he pulls away. “Good to see you again Bright.”

Malcolm clears his throat, trying to maintain whatever little composure he has left. “Put your seatbelt on Edgerton.”

“Yes sir.” Ian teases back. But then Ian’s voice drops, now filled with concern. He almost sounds like Gil. “How’s the hand? You really got kidnapped by a serial killer?”

Now he’s thinking he should have stayed at home, to avoid this part.

Malcolm scoffs. “Knew you actually listened to rumors.” Ian’s never contributed to agent gossip, but he’s always listening. It’s in his nature to wait, listen, observe. 

Ian shrugs. “Little hard to ignore when all the chatter is ‘how stupid Bright is’. And you know me, can’t exactly turn my back when they talk about you like that.” 

Though sweet of Ian to defend him, Malcolm sighs into his seat. Even after being fired he’s still the talk of the FBI, wonderful. Ian notices his disdain and reaches out, ruffling Malcolm’s hair. “Hey, none of that thinking pretty boy. Though if you’re not feeling good just let me know, and I’ll take you home.”

“Please, I’m going stir crazy,” Malcolm says. “I won’t be out on the field all the time, just want to at least give a profile.”

Ian sighs, and Malcolm knows he’s won this argument. Even when he was hurt before he’d show up back to the office the next day to do paperwork. His mind is always running, he needs something, or someone, to keep him occupied. 

It’s kind of how they fell into bed in the first place. 

They arrive at the precinct, and like a gentleman Ian helps him out of his seatbelt. Ian reaches to the back to grab more of his files, but right before they exit the car Ian steals another kiss, and Malcolm happily kisses back. 

Malcolm leads him to the conference room where Gil, Dani, and JT are already waiting. Edrisa is there too, and the delight in her face when she sees Ian can light up an entire room. 

“Huh, the chances of meeting one’s doppelganger is one in a trillion, which means impossible since there aren’t a trillion people in the world so this--”

“So the files.” Malcolm interrupts. “Can we see them?”

Ian lays out everything he can, the victim’s photos are tacked onto the white board while their files are on the desk for the team to read through. He gives Edrisa the autopsy and medical reports of the six previous victims, though they are still waiting for a call for tonight's. She tells them she’ll be in her lab working on the husband. 

Photos now up on the board, Malcolm sees a clear pattern. All were in their early 30’s, married, and the women were of high influence. 

“JT, can I borrow your phone?” Malcolm asks. 

“Why?”

“I don’t have facebook.” Malcolm simply says. JT shakes his head but hands his phone anyway. Malcolm goes through the app and searches for the latest victim, Blair Woodsen, and she’s the first to appear when searching. There’s news of the shooting, confirming she was the victim, but Malcolm only focuses on her past posts. Seeing her photos, Malcolm has a vague recollection of her back in high school. She’s naturally a brunette but dyed her hair platinum blonde in the last couple years. Like her parents before her, she’s taken up law, and is representing a real estate company, whom her husband, Henry Thornton, was CFO of. The party tonight was a benefit dinner hosted by Thornton.

“Find anything?” JT asks, impatient and wanting his phone back. 

Malcolm returns it. “Ainsely said I knew the victims, that I went to school with them.”

“Remington?” Gil asks. 

Malcolm shakes his head. “No, the preparatory school before I transferred. I can’t even remember if I had classes with either of them.” He says honestly. “I’ll ask my mother, but from her last name she definitely comes from old money. Woodsen Law has been around since the early 1900s here in New York. Thornton is also in the socialite community, but the Woodsens are worth more." A lot more, one of the richest families in the city.

“That strangely only fits the victimology of the two from Jersey.” Ian says. “Linda Vander Wolf and Kathy Simmons are New Jersey socialites. Vander Wolf is Jersey local, Simmons grew up in New York but moved to Jersey after she got married, the wives come from money, but Tina Morris in San Diego was middle class, her husband actually is unemployed. She came from Oregon and moved down to California for college. However, Vander Wolf had her house robbed, the other victims didn’t have their properties touched.”

He doesn’t have enough for a motive if only one house was robbed, but they can’t rule out the pattern of the shootings: the woman in the stomach, and the men in the head. The women are more likely to survive but the men are an instant kill. Only two of the survivors have a connection, but nothing definitive linking them besides the shootings. 

“Ballistics?” JT asks. 

“Guessing a .223 caliber round, which fragments on impact. ME in San Diego couldn’t piece it together but after Jersey I noticed the fragment pattern. Can’t be a coincidence eight people in just a span of a few months get shot with the same bullet, right?”

Edrisa will be able to confirm the fragments once she finishes her exam. Circumstantially, it makes sense why Ian’s come all the way here. 

Same bullets, similar victimology, Malcolm’s afraid to admit they do have a long distance serial killer in New York. 

* * *

Not long after Edrisa returns with her report that confirms the same bullets of the first three shootings, Malcolm heads home. Not that he wants to admit that Gil’s right, but his stomach began hurting from the strain of standing. He leaves with an uber, while everyone else stays at the station to figure out their next move.

Freshly showered, Malcolm lays in bed, ipad in hand as he rereads over Ian’s case files. On his phone he downloads facebook and makes a burner account just to look over the other victims, and possibly build up a proper victimology profile. Ian obviously sees a connection despite the time and distance of the killings. The shooting in Southern California was two months ago, and then New Jersey was one week ago and just a few days apart from each other. He needs to piece what caused the escalation between two months of no activity, to just a week apart from Jersey and New York. 

A few hours into his research, the sun’s fully set. His phone buzzes with a text, and Malcolm can’t help but smile when he sees Ian’s name again. 

_ Found a Filipino place still serving food, got you some siopao. Can I come over? _

Malcolm only had toast with a light jam when he came back, he figures he can eat something more. Siopao is filling but doesn’t hurt his stomach, so it’s perfect. He texts back with his address and building code, and once he sends it he goes back to the reports, but there’s only so much he can look at before his eyes start to strain. Interviewing the latest survivor may be his best bet into moving forward, but with Gil barring him from field work, he’s just stuck with the paperwork afterwards. It’s not that Ian’s, or Dani’s or JT’s reports are bad, but Malcolm would rather see everything first and to get the best possible intel. 

He shuts off his ipad and rubs his eyes. It’s only nine o’clock, way too early for his insomnia to kick in. Ian should be here soon. That’s when it hits him, that after months of not seeing each other, not since Malcolm was fired, Ian’s coming here tonight, with food, and the same sultry stare he’s been giving since waving at him from the crime scene. He quickly stands, ignoring the pain in his stomach, and hobbles over to a drawer where he keeps the home goods. Scented candles, matches, cheesy cds that he decides Ian definitely doesn’t need to hear. 

Malcolm lights up some candles, strategically placing them by his half-circle window. He checks his drawer by the nightstand, noting he has enough lube and condoms, though the condoms are debatable since they didn’t use it often. Just as he goes to dim the lights there’s a knock at his door. Sunshine chirps, disturbed by the noise, and he goes to coo her back to sleep just before he answers. 

Ian leans on the door frame, sunglasses now hanging on the opening of his v-neck. A plastic bag carrying their take out hangs from his hand, but Malcolm also notices his overnight bag slinged over his shoulder.

“Didn’t get a hotel on your way here?” Malcolm asks teasingly, stepping back to let him in.

“I did, but thought I could save the Bureau some money by crashing here.”

He probably shouldn’t allow his ex stay the night, hell he shouldn’t have kissed his ex when they first saw each other again. But that’s the thing about Ian. He’s intoxicating, dripping with a dominant energy Malcolm always goes on his knees for. 

Ian is always someone he wants. 

“Nice place, bigger than DC.” Ian comments as he places their take out on the kitchen island. “Is Sunshine still here?”

“Yeah, she’s just asleep.” Malcolm says, pointing over to her cage. “She may bite if you wake her up.” 

“Noted.” Ian says as he turns to Malcolm. He grabs Malcolm by the bottom of his shirt and pulls him close so that they’re chest to chest. Malcolm breathes slowly, allowing his good hand to trail up Ian’s front. His shirt is thin, so he can feel how hard his abs and chest are. He’s still keeping in such good shape. 

Malcolm tilts his head up and Ian understands what he needs. He meets him in the middle to capture his lips once again, but instead of it being quick, he takes his time, opening Malcolm’s mouth with his tongue while his hands go down to Malcolm’s ass. He gives Malcolm a small squeeze, and Malcolm chuckles into the kiss. 

“Who wears boxers this tight?” Ian asks when they break apart. “Might as well not wear anything at all.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Malcolm challenges.

With a smile, Ian lifts Malcolm up in his arms. He wraps his legs around Ian’s waist as Ian takes him to his bed. He drops him down gently and crawls on top of him, kissing hungrily, possessively, the way Ian’s always kissed him. With his good hand, Malcolm desperately tugs at Ian’s shirt to get it over his head, and luckily Ian knows what he wants and helps him out. 

“You’re too pretty, pretty boy, let me see you.” 

“Wait--” Ian only has to lift Malcolm’s shirt up to his chest when he sees it, the week old stitches courtesy of John Watkins. 

Ian stops all movements, staring at Malcolm’s stomach. Lust quickly fades to worry. “Mal… I didn’t--they said you just broke your hand--”

“Hey,” Malcolm says, holding Ian’s face. “I’m fine. He purposely missed all my major organs.”

“And that makes it better?” 

Malcolm shrugs. “I survived.”

“You were taken by some maniac.” Ian says, cradling Malcolm like he’s going to break. This isn’t the first time they’ve gone to bed like this, with Malcolm bruised and Ian right on top of him. Ian hesitated the first time too. “Bright, maybe we shouldn’t--.”

But Malcolm convinced him before, and he’ll do it again. Malcolm shuts him up with a kiss, and he cups the erection in Ian’s pants to prove he’s done talking. 

Because right now he just wants to feel good, by the man who always helped him forget his troubles, even if it’s just for a few hours. He doesn’t want to think about Watkins, that basement, his father. 

He just wants Ian. 

“Fuck, Malcolm,” Ian growls as he removes his own pants. “If I’m too rough--”

“I know, I know,” Malcolm says as he pushes his hips up to meet Ian’s. “Just--I’m good. I just took a shower so--”

“ _ Good _ .” 

Their hands scratch at each other as they try to remove every piece of clothing. Ian tosses everything to the floor and thrusts down, meeting his erection with Malcolm’s. This is what he needs, a hot and heavy body on top of him, and a nice long cock to fuck him deep. 

Their kisses become frantic, wetter with more teeth. Ian nips at Malcolm’s lips but then bites on his jawline, and the sensitive spot on Malcolm’s neck. Malcolm arches his body to meet with Ian’s wanting so desperately to be touched. 

When they were together, Ian would take his time with him. Teasing Malcolm for hours until he’s a sobbing mess and begging to be fucked. Right now, Malcolm’s a little too impatient for that, and so is Ian. Malcolm says between their kisses where the lube is, and Ian reaches over to the drawer to grab it. He looks at the condoms too and raises an eyebrow to Malcolm.

“I uh, I did have sex, but we used a condom.” he says truthfully. “And docs said I was clean from my last check up. And hey, no tetanus from the knife.” 

Ian shakes his head with a laugh, tossing the condoms aside. “You want me to fill you up, pretty boy? Get you full and wet?”

Malcolm shivers at his tone and nods. The sound of the cap coming loose is louder than expected, and he watches in anticipation as Ian squeezes a good amount onto his fingers. The press against his hole is expected, though Malcolm still has to breathe to relax. Ian was the last person to fuck him after all, so it’s been a while since anyone but himself has done this. 

He spreads his legs wider, giving Ian as much access to him as possible. 

Ian sucks down on his neck as he opens him up. Ian’s fingers are long and he knows how to make Malcolm tremble from that alone. Malcolm’s nails dig into Ian’s back, trying to keep him in place. He feels his neck bruising from his teeth, and Malcolm wants to be covered in hickies and bite-marks, a temporary pain that’ll turn to pleasure. 

“Just-Ian please just… I need you.”

It’s not as much begging as he usually does, in fact Ian won’t touch him until there are tears in his eyes, but he can tell Ian’s just as wound up as he is. He takes out his fingers and lines his hips with Malcolm’s. “I need you too, pretty boy, always do.”

The heat of Ian’s cock presses at his entrance and Malcolm throws his head back with a moan. The stretch always feels wonderful, a burn that cools into pleasure as Ian goes deeper. 

“Fuck, fucking miss this.” Ian tells him, unable to look away from how their bodies connect. 

“Miss this too.” Malcolm admits. 

Ian drops his head down to Malcolm’s, their foreheads touching and sharing the same air. Ian has his eyes closed, but Malcolm’s watching his face, watching how he’s slowly losing composure with Malcolm’s heat. When Ian’s all the way in, they stay like that for a moment, savoring each other. 

He’s stretched and full, and Malcolm wants more. Ian fits into him perfectly. He clenches around Ian, who gasps and then huffs out a laugh. “Jesus baby, you really want it huh?”

“Would have let you take me on the balcony if not for my team.” Malcolm says honestly. It also wouldn’t be the worst place they’ve fucked before, and the view would have been nice.

Ian laughs again. “You are--” with the snaps of his hips Ian thrusts into Malcolm, “gorgeous.”

He doesn’t give Malcolm a chance to respond. Ian pulls out, just enough for Malcolm to whine at the lost before thrusting right back in with full force. 

Ian’s movements are relentless, powerful, and everything Malcolm’s needed since he came back home. He fucks Malcolm with force and precision, hitting his sweet spot over and over, just the way he remembers--the way he loves and craves for it when he’s not with Ian. 

His cock hasn’t even been touched, but he’s leaking all over his stomach. Malcolm throws his head back, calling Ian’s name over and over until he comes between them. Still, he’s not done. This is the part he loves, how oversensitive and worn out his body is, and Ian using him for his own pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck Mal I’m close. You’re so tight around me.” 

With what energy he has left Malcolm licks a long stripe from Ian’s collarbone to his ear. He bites down on his earlobe and whispers, “Come inside me  _ daddy _ .” 

Intertwining their hands together, Ian calls out Malcolm’s name, snaps his hips, and comes deep inside him. Malcolm leans up for a kiss that Ian happily returns, his mouth wet and needy for him. 

They’re wet and sticky, between their sweat, saliva, and other bodily fluids, they’re a fucked out mess and Malcolm loves,  _ misses _ this feeling. 

Malcolm whines when Ian slips out of him. He feels Ian’s come leak out, but then Ian kisses down Malcolm’s neck to his stomach, and while making eye contact, licks Malcolm’s come coated stomach clean while he pushes the fluids back into him. 

Malcolm grips Ian by his hair and pulls him back for another dirty kiss, tasting himself on Ian’s tongue gets his own spent cock to twitch. Ian laughs into their kiss. “Oh baby, give me an hour and we can go again.”

“An hour? Getting old there aren’t you Edgerton?”

Ian responds by grabbing his oversensitive cock, and Malcolm cries. “Not so smug now, huh pretty boy?”

Ian strokes him with a light touch, but Malcolm’s body still shudders from his touch. His body needs rest, but he craves more. He wants to be fingered to another orgasm, have Ian’s mouth on his cock, he wants both at the same time. “Ian…” 

Ian smiles and kisses his cheek. “I got you darling, just relax.” 

Instead of milking him to a second orgasm, Ian massages his hips and thighs, touching him in a way that makes his body feel like jelly. His body actually feels relaxed as well as his mind, something Ian’s always been able to do to him. “Ah, need to sleep pretty boy?”

Malcolm shakes his head, because as relaxed as he is, it’s too early for his brain to actually shut down. “You had food?”

After a few moments they put on their boxers and head to the kitchen. Malcolm takes a seat on the barstool while Ian reheats their food. Ian has pancit and fresh lumpia, while Malcolm pulls at the siopao bun and eats it in small bites. Ian pours a glass of water for himself and Malcolm.

“So, Arroyo…”

Malcolm sighs. He should have expected this to come up. “Yeah?”

“Just...things from class make more sense now.”

He wishes they can just go back to bed for another mind blowing orgasm, but now that his previous and current life have collided, it’s only fair to Ian to explain. He’ll have to do the same will Gil later. 

“I swear I was trying to stay professional. Wouldn’t look good if I hit on my teacher, right?”

Ian chuckles. “No, but every time you bit your lip, let your eyes linger on my body...it was hot. Nice to feel wanted. But you didn’t do that around Arroyo.” 

Malcolm shrugs. “He was kind of my bi awakening, but he was married and I was a teenager at the time. Had to get over him, and then you came.” Ian doesn’t say anything, just nods and continues eating. “Doesn’t mean you were a replacement Ian, and I’m not sure how to convince you otherwise.” 

Ian isn’t a replacement. He was initially attracted to him for that reason, but he saw their differences the more time he spent with Ian. Then Malcolm realized he was just attracted to older men who could lift him against a wall. 

“Hey kid, it’s okay.” Ian says. “I don’t need convincing. I know I’m not a replacement. I was just surprised. You grew up with Arroyo, right?”

“Kind of. He helped around after my dad was arrested. Just...he wasn’t my replacement dad or anything. He’s an old friend.”

There’s definitely some underlying psychological issues he has of preferring older men, his attraction to Gil that later became an attraction to Ian, wanting praises from all of them including his own father, but Malcolm decides that’s between him and his shrink. 

“Well, your old friend didn’t look too happy with me here.” Ian says. 

“After Swanson tried to take the Watkins case from us I think he’s just tired of FBI butting in. But you being here helps, I swear. I’ll make Gil see it our way.”

He sees how Ian reacts when Malcom says ‘our way’, like old times when Malcolm and Ian would work cases together. They weren’t often paired, but when they were their cases went smoother than other agents could hope for. 

Ian holds Malcolm’s cheek in his palm. “I did mean it, though. Not taking over, don’t even care about the credit. Just trying to catch a killer.”

Malcolm smiles, turning his head to kiss Ian’s hand. 

This is why Malcolm likes Ian. There was talk among other agents, how the man is a loner, would first turn against the bureau to save himself, but working with Ian, Malcolm knows all of that to be untrue. He prefers working alone because no one else understands his methods. He turned on the bureau because they turned on him first. Ian may be about self-preservation, but he does it for justice. He isn’t choosing himself or the job, he chooses both. 

He acted like that with Malcolm, when they began their arrangement. 

For Macolm, being with Ian is easy. In fact, it never necessarily bothered him that they didn’t have a label for their relationship, Malcolm simply hated explaining it to anyone who asked. But when it’s just himself and Ian, it’s when he feels the most at ease. 

Malcolm has enough emotional baggage to fill an entire plane, and a secret skeleton or two in his closet that he’s still trying to figure out. Malcolm knows he’s also too much--he sees  _ everything _ even before being trained to profile. He’s always looking out for odd signs and details in a person, and one too many times does that get him in trouble. 

Ian isn’t much different. He’s a man tied to his job more than to a person, and has enough resentment with the Bureau’s red tape and corrupted officials that makes him distrust many others. Malcolm’s first year in training, he only ever saw Ian for sniper class, as he was constantly shipped out on cases. 

It was an unspoken rule when they first began sleeping together, about what they were to each other: a distraction. 

Ian distracted him from the nightmares, from the constant profiling, from his father. 

Malcolm distracted him from the injustices, from the jobs that left Ian to fend for himself. 

And it worked, because they were what they needed.

The problem, with both of them, is no matter how hard the work was, no matter what sick and twisted individual got into their head for that day, what victim or survivor stays in their dreams, they were too dedicated to their jobs to stop. 

Sleeping with your coworkers is a bad idea, but for them, it made sense. They were the only person who understood why they just can’t stop, but also understood each other’s needs. 

Malcolm dated in college, though no one serious enough to bring home, and as the past few months proved, Eve wasn’t going to work out either. Ian, despite embodying the definition of flight risk, is a constant that stayed. 

Ian’s not perfect, and hell neither is Malcolm, not by a long shot or hours of therapy, but laying in Ian’s arms, breathing in the older man’s cologne, while he traces patterns onto his back, it’s enough. 

All Malcolm wants is enough.

Though, Malcolm soon realizes the downfall of this type of non-committed relationship when his front door opens, and it’s someone entering his apartment instead of Ian leaving. 

Malcolm’s always been a light sleeper, Ian on the other hand sleeps like the dead when he’s with Malcolm. It’s the only time he’s ever comfortable letting his guard down. 

“Oh sunshine, I know you are still recovering, but Samantha Woodsen is insisting we assist on her daughter’s case.” Jessica comes up the staircases and places her bag on the counter. “I’ve told her I asked for Gil to look over but she’s seen you and Ainsely on the news, she’s asking if ‘Bright’ can also work--and ignoring that I was not invited to her daughter’s charity benefit I told her…” She turns around and finally notices the scattered clothing around his bed, and Malcolm now curses himself for getting a studio instead of a one bedroom, where there’s an actual door.

Not that a door would stop Jessica Whitley. She’d just barge in regardless. 

“Oh, you have company?”

Ian decides, then, to stir awake. He has his arm around Malcolm’s waist, tightening his hold while he buries his face to Malcolm’s back. “Tell them to fuck off.” 

Malcolm holds in a laugh, watching his mother’s curious face, but then curious turns to recognition, as Malcolm thought the same when he first met Ian.

“Malcolm,” Jessica asks slowly, “who is in your bed?”

“...Eve?” He tries. 

“Well that’s rude,” Ian says, finally sitting up and resting his head on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Saying another woman’s name in bed hurts my feelings.” 

There are so many emotions going through Jessica’s face. Malcolm makes out shock, denial, utter confusion, and then  _ fury _ . 

“Gil! What are you--!” She takes off her heels and throws it in their direction. Malcolm instinctively covers Ian, who behind him is laughing because he’s an ass. “That’s my  _ son!” _

“Mother!” Malcolm stands, and quickly uses a pillow to cover himself since he slept naked. “Mother that’s not Gil!” 

“What do you mean that’s not Gil? Just because he shaved--”

“Wallet.” Malcolm says, pointing to Ian’s discarded jeans on the floor. “Check his ID.” 

Jessica’s ready to grab the next closet item, the snuffed out candle, but she holds it tightly as she goes to check said wallet. She pulls it out and scans over his driver’s license and FBI identification card. Her face returns to shock, and disbelief, as she looks over it. 

“Y-you’re not….?”

“And before you ask, ma’am,” Ian says, “Not related to Lieutenant Arroyo. I’m not close with my family, but I’d definitely know if I had a long lost twin.”

She just continues staring, at his ID cards, at Ian, Malcolm, trying to piece together whatever the hell they’re doing.

“Mother, Ian and I are going to get dressed.” Malcolm says. “And then we can talk?”

She huffs, placing his IDs back into his wallet and tossing it over to the bed. “I’ll be in the lobby, five minutes, and then I’ll be back up.” 

Heel-less, she walks out in just her stockings, slamming the door loudly to prove her point. 

Ian falls back onto the bed in full blown laughter, and Malcolm hits him with his pillow. “You’re an  _ ass _ .”

“Yeah? And here I wanted your ass this morning.” Ian pulls Malcolm back to his chest, kissing his forehead while his fingers dip into Malcolm’s sloppy hole. 

Malcolm gasps, squirming and wanting to ride Ian’s fingers. But when his mother says five minutes, she means five minutes. “Ian-Ian we have to--”

Ian silences him with a kiss, and, well, when Jessica finds them five minutes later, still under the blanket, sweaty and covered in their own bodily fluids, she throws her purse at them. 

* * *

If not for the case, Malcolm knew he would have a long talk with his mother about his long time affair with Agent Edgerton. Fortunately, Blair Woodsen’s mother is on a time crunch, and wants to speak to Bright as soon as possible. 

Mrs. Woodsen welcomes them to her luxury brownstone just miles away from the crime scene. While the building is old, the interior is decorated modernly with signs of recent renovation. 

They sit in her grandiose living room. Malcolm takes notes of the family photos, all formal, done with a professional photographer in a studio. Diplomas from Blair hang above the fireplace, along with her parent’s own awards. It’s the first thing they see when entering the living space, to show the family’s importance and accomplishments. 

“This is Special Agent Edgerton,” Malcolm introduces, “He is also working on this case.”

“FBI, thank god,” Mrs. Woodsen says. “Because I want to know the son of a bitch who hurt my daughter.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Ian reassures. “Can you tell us if you or your daughter have any enemies?”

Mrs. Woodsen scoffs. “Of course we did. We’re real estate law, and after closing a deal on a buyout from Mexico, we’ve been getting threats since.” She then goes off about a plot of land that the Woodsens bought off indigenous lands, and as she casually throws in slurs to describe who may have wanted to target Blair. Ian keeps his face cool, but Malcolm can see the anger building in him. Mrs. Woodsen isn’t paying attention to them, so Malcolm reaches out and squeezes Ian’s thigh.

“What about enemies, here in the states?” Malcolm tries to redirect. The land in Mexico was bought out ten years ago, maybe around the time Blair was in college and out of state, so it feels odd to be targeted now. 

“Well, I can happily say the Whitleys aren’t.” She laughs, though Malcolm doesn’t get the joke. “Oh, but you should look at the Simmons. That  _ daughter  _ of theirs, Kathy, betrayed my baby girl their senior year of high school. They haven’t spoken since, for good reason.”

Ian pauses when he puts the names together. “Kathy Simmons?”

Mrs. Woodsen scoffs at the name as she takes a sip of her tea. “The very same. Heard her husband is a surgeon, working for those underground drug dealers. Definitely should look into them.”

Malcolm and Ian exchange looks. “Mrs. Woodsen,” Malcolm says, “Kathy Simmons and her husband were shot a week ago.”

Mrs. Woodsen finally has the decency to look remorseful at the news. She sets her hands down on her lap. “That... is unfortunate. I’ve always said the gangs in New Jersey were dangerous.”

“We don’t believe it was gang related.” Malcolm says. “Are you sure Blair hasn’t spoken to Kathy since high school?”

“I’m sure. Blair burned their childhood photos the second Kathy…” Mrs. Woodsen stops herself and clears her throat. “Nevermind. Why?”

Ian and Malcolm exchange quick glances. “We believe whoever shot Simmons was the same person who shot your daughter.” Ian says. 

Mrs. Woodsen purses her lips, taking in the information, and she shakes her head. “No, impossible. They haven’t spoken in almost fourteen years. They wouldn’t target my daughter because she hasn’t been involved with the Simmons.”

“Okay but if you can think of someone--”

“Look at those villagers. I hear they have family in the states.” She says tersely. “If that is all you can inform me of then I believe we are done for today. I have a meeting, and then I’m going to see my hospitalized daughter.”

Malcolm apologizes. Gathering their notes he and Ian quickly leave the brownstone, and Mrs. Woodsen makes it known to slam the door. Ian whistles lowly. “Well, she was helpful.”

“She was,” Malcolm says. “We now know they were friends in high school! So there is a further connection.” 

“A loose one, but it’s something.” Ian sighs. “Just wish we knew why Morris and Vander Wolf were wrapped up in this.”

When they get to Ian’s car, Malcolm’s phone rings with Gil’s name showing up. “Hey Gil,” He answers. “Got you on speaker. Ian and I just spoke with Mrs. Woodsen”

There’s an odd silence on the other line, and Malcolm looks to see if the call dropped. “Gil?”

“Sorry, you’re still with Ian?”

“Uh, yeah?” Malcolm says. “I thought my mother told you? Woodsen wanted to talk to me, and I thought I’d bring Ian along too.”

There’s more silence that makes Malcolm nervous. It dawns on him now that if mother told Gil where Malcolm’s going to be, that she may have mentioned what she witnessed that morning. 

“Alright,” Gil says after a beat. “Well we just spoke to the husband’s family. We may have a lead--a disgruntled brother who also attended River View. Does the name Carson Thornton sound familiar? He was in your year.”

Malcolm shakes his head. “No, sorry. I…” tried to forget, but that doesn't leave his lips. He wants to forget  _ everything _ of his childhood, up until he cut ties with his father the first time around. Remington made more of an impression than River View, still, he was hoping forgetting would make everything hurt less. 

“No, I get it kid.” Gil says, his tone softer. “I’ll send over the address. Let’s rendezvous there if you’re up for it. Otherwise, Edgerton can join us.”

Malcolm hangs up, and a second later an address comes through. 

“Give it here pretty boy.” Ian says. “I can meet your team if you’re not feeling well.”

“What? No, Ian I’m  _ fine _ . You know me, I just hate remembering...well everything.” 

Ian sees right through him. Malcolm isn’t fine because his own memory is broken, whether it was by drugging himself or forcing old memories so far back he isn’t sure what he’s made up or what’s real. Regardless, Ian holds back any protests and drives off to the address given. 

* * *

Carson Thornton lives on the industrial side of the city, lower income apartments and steelwork, a stark difference than the family home that his brother supposedly lived in. When they arrive Gil, Dani, and JT are already on scene, with Gil looking...disappointed that Malcolm showed up. 

Or maybe he’s looking at Ian. 

“Not exactly a place I’d imagine a trust fund baby living.” JT comments. “The front door to this apartment is broken.”

“Was he completely cut off?” Malcolm asks.

“According to his mother they’re still transferring money.” Dani says. “They haven’t spoken in years but lives off them.”

Ian snorts. “Maybe he’s just bad at managing the money.” 

There’s a sound of a door opening from the otherside of the building. They rendezvous and see a man, six foot, brunette hair, dressed in plain jeans. He turns over to them for a quick second and Malcolm clearly sees it’s Carson. He’s hunched over, like he doesn’t want to be seen, so Malcolm holds his hand out, letting them know to stay back. 

“Hi, excuse me?” Malcolm calls out, keeping his voice casual. “Carson, is that you?”

Carson turns to Malcolm, taking note of his cast and overcoat. Although he’s wearing a suit, Malcolm has no indicating marks he’s police. He then takes a long look at Malcolm’s face, and his own brightens with recognition. 

“Whitley? Man it’s been like, what ten years?”

Malcolm laughs. “A little more than that. Sorry, I was just driving by when I thought I recognized you. Been a while since I’ve seen you and your brother.”

He watches Carson’s face turn sullen. “Yeah, uh, well sorry you may have just missed him. He was shot last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Malcolm says, sincerely. “I uh, actually that’s why I’m here. Can I ask you a few questions about your brother?” 

Carson looks over Malcolm’s shoulder, and he knows he sees everyone waiting by the car. His eyes turn back to Malcolm, panic starting to build. 

“I’m not a cop.” Malcolm says since it’s the truth. “We’d just like to know if you knew anything, or anyone maybe targeting your brother--”

He isn’t sure what triggers Carson, but just as Malcolm realizes he’s about to flee, Carson’s fist collides with Malcolm’s face, and Malcolm back falls hard onto the asphalt. He hears Gil, or maybe it’s Ian, call out to Carson, and vaguely makes out JT running past him. His head spins, the sky is too bright, and someone’s hovering over him, saying his name. 

* * *

Malcolm’s dreams are too vivid for his liking. It’s why he always wakes up screaming. He feels every bit of pain his mind forces onto him when he sleeps.

This dream is no different in terms of how close to reality it is. He’s sixteen, wearing his Remington uniform, but he’s in the cafeteria of River View. He wants to take his usual spot, back corner of the room where no one disturbs him, but as he walks over someone sticks their foot out and he trips, spilling his food on the floor and all over himself. He looks up and sees a group of boys and girls laughing. They’re sitting at the popular table.

He can vaguely make out older versions of Blair, with a red stain on her stomach, and Carson, wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. They’re laughing, calling him a klutz, a freak. 

Someone holds their hand out for him, so he takes it.

And he falls on his back.

* * *

Malcolm wakes up with a jolt, on a soft bed and his mouth guard in place. It takes a moment for him to realize he’s back in his loft, one had in the restraint. He sits up slowly and sees Dani in the kitchen, going through his pantry and fridge. Malcolm spits out his guard. “Not going to find food. The cabinets are more for show.”

She rushes to his side immediately. “No wonder you weigh like a feather.” Dani says. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, could have been worse I guess. You punch harder.” He tries to lighten the mood, and although Dani smiles she doesn’t look pleased. “How long was I out?”

She looks at her watch. “Two, three hours?”

Well, despite the dream he does feel rested, physically at least, and hungry. He should have a few eggs and the leftover rice from last night’s take out. It’ll sustain him for now but he definitely needs groceries. 

Malcolm takes out his phone and starts his online grocery order. “Has Carson revealed anything?” He asks when he sees Dani check her phone again. She’s most likely texting JT.

“Nothing related to the case.” She sighs, “but he owes quite a bit to loan sharks. He’s been using his allowance on betting and poker games, hence where he lives.”

“Why did he punch me?” Malcolm touches his cheek, feeling how it’s swelling. 

“Said he thought you were the loan shark.” She says. “Panicked, punched you, didn’t realize we were cops and an FBI agent.” 

“Well, he’ll still probably be charged with assault if Ian and Gil have anything to say about it.” He says with a laugh. Malcolm isn’t pressing anything, too much trouble for someone who isn’t their serial killer. 

“They were...very upset. Edgerton took charge of the interrogation while JT searched his apartment.”

Malcolm winces, knowing how Edgerton rough likes to interrogate. This isn’t his solo case either so he’ll definitely conflict with how Gil runs things. “Gil doing the interrogation too?”

“Yeah, though I doubt they’d get more information besides the loans he owes.”

An odd silence falls between them, and Malcolm knows it’s odd because Dani’s fidgeting with her phone. She looks like she wants to press a question, but she keeps her lips tightly sealed. It occurs to Malcolm, then, that in his open bedroom Ian’s bag is sitting on a chair with his jacket draped over it. If Dani went to use his bathroom she’d see a travel toothbrush, and another set of razors. 

Malcolm runs his hands through his hair. “Go ahead, ask.”

She takes another moment before speaking. “So you and Edgerton...you didn’t say you had a boyfriend.”

Malcolm tries not to laugh at  _ boyfriend _ , because somehow with Ian it feels juvenile to call themselves that. 

“We’re...not exclusive.”

“Oh,” She says, her tone remorseful. 

“No it’s...we’ve been like this. On and off since...2015? I mean I knew him since I started at the bureau but we didn’t really start this until a few years later.”

“And what is  _ this _ ?” She asks, gesturing to his bag. 

Emotional constipation between two stubborn men who love sex, but can’t talk about their feelings. “Agents with benefits?” He says with a chuckle. It’s not enough, because worry still paints her face. 

“And you’re okay with that?” She asks . She joins him on the bed, sitting next to him while she helps remove his restraint. 

Malcolm only shrugs. “It works. We’ve both always been workaholics. What we do is just, relief.”

He knows Dani should understand that, she’s just as much absorbed into her work as Malcolm is. 

“Because it didn’t look like that, when you were punched.” Dani says. “Edgerton was  _ livid. _ And I don’t know him--at all--but I’ve never seen anyone so upset.” 

“He’s protective.” Malcolm reassures. “He’s like that with everyone. I mean Gil’s the same way.” 

“Yeah...he’s not happy too, just so you know. Lecture may be coming your way.”

Malcolm groans. First one from his mother and now Gil, he might as well call his father to get all the adults in his life lecturing him like a child.

Then again, Martin may find the whole thing hilarious instead, and then psychoanalyze why his relationship with Ian is actually a substitute for his life long crush on Gil. And then Martin will probably want to kill Ian, and then GIl.

Don’t call Martin, Malcolm notes. 

“If I promise to stay put will they leave me alone?”

Dani snorts. “I doubt that, though you should stay home anyway. If we need a profile we’ll facetime you instead.”

“Fine, fine.” Malcolm concedes. It’s not like there’s more he can do now anyway. From the sound of it they’re at another dead end anyway. 

When Dani finally trusts he’s not going to run off she leaves him to join everyone back in the precinct. He hasn’t received a text from Gil or Ian yet, so Malcolm is really left to fend for himself to deal with his boredom. 

An hour later his delivery groceries arrive. He brings it back up to his loft and takes out the contents. Though he doesn’t consider himself a skilled cook he can make a few dishes that Ian taught him back in DC. Filipino Spaghetti is something he shouldn’t mess up, and he was able to find the right ingredients from the grocery store he ordered from. 

He’s getting ready to boil some water when a phone rings, except it’s not his. It’s a default ringtone, and it’s coming from the grocery bag. 

Malcolm searches for it and finds it tapped to the inner pocket of the grocery bag. The cell phone is old fashion, definitely a burner, with the caller ID showing Unknown. He takes out his own phone, and quickly pulls up the recorder. Using a napkin, Malcolm holds the phone and answers. 

“Hello?”

He hears wind, maybe a helicopter, and heavy breathing. He’s not sure if his own phone could pick up on that. “ _ I’m sorry, we didn’t help you _ .”

It’s a woman’s voice, one that he does not recognize.

“Help me?” Malcolm repeats. 

It sounds like she’s holding back a sob. “ _ We should have done more. I can’t change the past but I can amend it. I’m sorry Malcolm.” _

“Wait who--”

He hears a gunshot, and the phone disconnects. 

Malcolm stops the recording and quickly calls Gil, who answers on the first ring. “Gil! I think the suspect--”

“Kid, I have to call you back.” his breath sounds heavy, and he hears screaming in the background. “Carson was just shot.”

“What?”

“He and his lawyer were leaving the precinct and--shit Edgerton where are you going?!!” 

He knows exactly where--Ian’s going to find the shooter. 

“I’ll be down there!” 

“Malcolm--”

He hangs up before Gil can argue against him. 

* * *

As expected the precinct is in a frenzy. There are several news outlets trying to report, but are barricaded by the tape and officers not allowing entrance. Of course, Ainsley is also on scene, and she calls over Malcolm when she sees him trying to get by. He quickly apologizes to her and runs into the precinct. 

He finds Gil, Dani, and JT in Gil’s office. Gil’s usual sweater is off, so all he has on is his black tank top. His sweater is draped over a chair and Malcolm sees the blood splatter, and it dawns on him Gil must have been walking Carson out when it just happened. 

“What are you doing here Bright?” He asks, tone clipped.

Malcolm doesn’t let it bother him. Instead he gives the disposable cell phone. “I think the killer called me.” 

Everyone in the office shares the same shocked expression. 

“That cell phone was in my grocery bag. It took almost an hour for it to be delivered, and maybe just five minutes after I received it she called me.”

“I’m sorry,  _ she?” _ Gil asks. 

“Yeah, definitely a woman’s voice. She said “ _ I’m sorry we didn’t help you _ .” 

Dani eyes the phone. “We… who’s we?”

Malcolm shrugs. “ _ We should have done more. I can’t change the past, but I can amend it _ . She switches between we and I--we in the past, but I in the present.”

“This just isn’t making sense.” JT says, clearly frustrated. “Why does the shooter know you? You didn’t even know Woodsen or Thornton.”

“I’m clearly missing something back when I went to River View. The Woodsens, Simmons, and Thorntons were targets because they all went to River View, but I’m not. And neither were the first two victims.” It’s really starting to sound like the first two victims are just a coincidence. Shootings happen all the time, even if they are shot by snipers.

Another phone rings, but this time it’s Gil’s. “God, he finally calls back--” Gil says as he answers. “Where the hell did you run off to Edgerton?”

_ “He’s not here. The shooter couldn’t have more than five minutes but he escaped.” _

“She,” Malcolm corrects. 

“ _ She who? Malcolm what are you doing there?” _

_ “ _ The sniper is a woman.” Malcolm explains. “Come back, you need to catch up.”

* * *

It feels like they’re back to square one, and what’s worse is Morris and Vander Wolf may have nothing to do with this at all. If they catch this sniper, there are still two other victims unaccounted for--a killer still on the loose. 

All they can do is focus on New York. The assailant is clearly looking for targets in New York, specifically those who attended River View. Malcolm needs a yearbook just to get an idea of the target pool, and who may potentially be next. 

Woodsen doesn’t answer when he tries to call her, and the Thorntons are inconsolable after another son died in the same manner. He’ll have to do it tomorrow. So their investigation ends tonight. 

Malcolm and Ian drive back to his loft in silence, but he can tell how frustrated Ian is that the sniper just slipped past him. She’s not only skilled in shooting, but in disappearing as well. Ian’s a tracker, so the fact she continues to evade him guts him. 

Ian’s still quiet when they enter the loft. Malcolm doesn’t like it when he quietly fumes, refusing to let his frustrations be known even though anyone could tell how he feels. He shuts people out. 

Then again, Malcolm does the same thing. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” He says. Malcolm nods and lets him go. The groceries on the counter are still spayed out, with a pot of water sitting on the stove, not yet boiled. He might as well finish, otherwise it’s another night of take out. 

He just gets the pasta in the boiling water, and a pan to heat the sauce, when Ian emerges, wearing a pair of boxers and a white shirt. He looks refreshed, though still upset. “You’re cooking?”

Malcolm smiles. “I was trying to. Thought you’d like a home cooked meal.” 

The smile on Ian’s face makes Malcolm blush. Ian reaches out and pulls Malcolm into a hug, kissing the top of his head. “Oh Bright.”

Malcolm pulls Ian down for a kiss that quickly turns desperate. Ian pushes Malcolm until his back hits the refrigerator door, his hands going for Malcolm’s belt as he undoes it. 

“Ian, the food.” Malcolm laughs through the kiss.

Ian bites Malcolm’s lower lip and pulls back. “You’re right. Go shower Malcolm. I’ll take care of this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on go.” He lets Malcolm walk past him, but not before spanking him first. 

A hot shower does do wonders to a wary body. He doesn’t even realize the odd knots and aches until he’s under it. Malcolm realizes how long he was under there, because when he’s out, also in a comfortable pair of night clothes, Ian’s plating up the spaghetti. Ian licks the sauce from his fingers, in no way trying to be obscene, but Malcolm focuses on the way his tongue darts out anyway. 

“Thanks for helping.” Malcolm says.

“Thank  _ you _ for thinking of me.” Once he has everything plated, and the leftovers in a container, Ian places the dirty dishes into the sink, and then scoops Malcolm in his arms for a possessive kiss. 

The food’s forgotten about for a dirty and quick fuck. Ian props him up against a wall, grinding his covered cock with Malcolm’s while kissing with passion and heat. Somewhere, at some point, Ian finds the lubricant and fingers Malcolm while still resting on the wall, and with Malcolm’s legs wrapped around Ian’s waist. 

Ian’s shirt comes off, and Malcolm claws at his back when Ian enters him, thrusting with brute force. Ian bites at Malcolm’s neck and chest, while Malcolm chants his name like a prayer. It doesn’t take long for either to finish, with Ian filling him up, while Malcolm spills between their stomachs. 

Ian lays him on the bed gently and kisses him through their post orgasm bliss. Malcolm’s shirt is ruined for the night, so he takes it off and tosses it aside while Ian cleans them up with a damp paper towel. It’s after more kisses, and a new shirt, when they finally settle down on the kitchen island to eat. 

It’s a comfortable silence between them, the tension from earlier lifted. When they finish, Ian insists on doing the dishes while Malcolm waits in bed, ipad back in his lap as he takes notes of everything today. Ian eventually slips into bed, wrapping his arm around Malcolm’s waist to lie next to him.

“I think I’m going to River View tomorrow.” Malcolm tells him. 

“Alone?”

“If no one is available.” Malcolm says. He doesn’t mind going alone to this school (he will never set foot in Remington unless the headmaster died), though with a killer knowing his name and address, he gets why alone isn’t a good idea. “Maybe I’ll ask JT or Dani, you and Gil are going to continue from yesterday right?” 

“Yeah, but I can go with you first if you’d like.” 

Malcolm shakes his head. “Best you stick with Gil, maybe you two will find something. I’m just following a hunch.”

Ian accepts that answer. He turns off the lights and places Malcolm’s night guard in his mouth. They fall asleep for a second time together.

But Malcolm dreams of River View again. 

The distortion confuses him more, as the campuses of River View and Remington overlay each other. Vijay’s playing soccer on a field that belongs to River View, yet wears the Remington uniform. Malcolm’s sitting on the benches, watching his friend kick the ball into a pool. The soccer players then play on top of the water, like it’s solid. He hears the laughter of Blair, Henry, Kathy, Carson, and another set of faces that he can’t make out. He hears Vijay warning him to run. 

And Malcolm falls. 

Ian doesn’t wake up when Malcolm jolts back to consciousness. It’s not one of his most violent ways he’s woken up next to Ian, so he feels comfortable to go back to sleep and overthink what his dreams are telling him. 

He hates that he can’t blame his father for these memories. 

He hates it more that his mother still comes into the loft unannounced the next morning, demanding the three of them go for breakfast. 

“I can eat.” Ian says, still under the covers while he kisses Malcolm’s thighs.

Malcolm frowns and lightly hits Ian’s head. “Don’t you have a case?” 

“Nonsense, the crime scene will be a crime scene.” Jessica says. “Besides, I invited Gil too.”

Malcolm falls back into bed. He’s starting to think a room in Claremont will save him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a hunch, JT and Malcolm go back to River View to find answers, and instead uncover a deeper secret his school has hidden for fourteen years. 
> 
> But before that, Jessica holds a breakfast interrogation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much on the feedback with chapter one! I'm so excited to continue sharing this story with fellow Broyo fans! Or fans of Malcolm being treated well by daddies. 
> 
> This chapter is more case heavy than romance but I personally found writing the case aspect of the fic a lot of fun. So enjoy!

Malcolm has always considered himself a good kid. He followed his mother’s rules: no sneaking out, no drugs (that weren’t already prescribed), no underage partying, hell he didn’t lose his virginity until college. And it’s because he’s been the good kid that he has absolutely no idea how to act when his mother and pseudo-father figure are hosting a breakfast interrogation of his friends with benefits. 

Well, he stopped seeing Gil as a father figure when he hit puberty and Malcolm realized he has a thing for older men.

Jot that down on things he should talk about with his therapist. 

When they arrive at the restaurant Malcolm shoots JT a text, asking if he’d be okay joining him to River View to follow his hunch. 

“So, Agent Edgerton,” Jessica asks when they have their drinks out, mimosa for Jessica, and just orange juice for everyone else. “How long have you been fucking my son?”

Gil chokes on his juice, and Malcolm sends JT another text: _save me from my mother!!_

Jessica smiles innocently and stares at Ian until he gives an answer. 

Ian, finding all of this hilarious, answers with his usual amount of sass. “When he was of-age.”

Malcolm kicks Ian under the table. “We met while I was still in training.” Malcolm amends. “But didn’t start anything until a few years after, when I was already an agent and also I was twenty-two when I joined Quantico I think I was over “of-age” for a lot of things.”

“We know, Malcolm,” Gil says politely. “We were just curious why you haven’t told us about Edgerton.”

Ian, this time, answers with more grace and truth. “I was going by Malcolm’s pace, and plus with how much I move around the country, sometimes out months at a time, we didn’t necessarily have a traditional relationship.”

Gil just ‘hmps’, so Malcolm isn’t sure if he approves of what they have, but he is acknowledging it as the truth. 

_Lol bro, what’s up?_ JT Finally texts back. Malcolm glances at the clock, noting how early it is so he must have just gotten up. 

_Breakfast interrogation. Going to die. Take care of Sunshine for me._

_Sounds like a-you problem. But yeah I’ll join you at River View. Need a ride?_

Malcolm quickly texts JT the restaurant they’re in when the waiter returns with breakfast.

“What do you do with the FBI?” Jessica asks. Her elbows are propped on the table, with her chin resting on her folded hands. She doesn’t even look at her food.

“I’m a sniper instructor at Quantico, but on the field I'm chasing fugitives and spree killers.”

Straight and to the point, which while Ian gives a good answer, neither Jessica nor Gil are done pressing him. 

“And was Malcolm one of your students?” Gil asked in a tone that is definitely reminiscent of a father pressing his daughter’s older boyfriend. Oh god would Martin have acted this way when Ainsley started dating? If Martin met Malcolm's first boyfriend, his college professor?

No, Martin Whitley would have invited any one of their dates for dinner, then gut them later. Classic Surgeon method. 

“He was.” Ian confirms. “One of my best too. We worked on a few cases together at that point, but as Malcolm said we didn’t start a relationship until years later. It was that hostage case when we began, right?"

One of the worst cases Malcolm’s ever been on. A church with suspicions of illegal firearms and child marriages had taken him and Colette hostage, and Ian was in charge of getting them out. 

It should have been the next Waco. Malcolm came out bruised, bloodied, but alive, and fell right into Ian’s arms. 

They fought about it, actually. Malcolm taking an unnecessary risk in order to lower the body count. The only ones who died were the church leader and his dedicated followers, but all the women and children were safe. 

Malcolm said he did what was right. Ian said he’s reckless and had a death wish. Then they kissed, and Ian threw him onto the bed while Malcolm undid his pants. 

That’s how this arrangement began. Two men going to each other, when they had the time, just to forget about their jobs, their shitty lives, to have a moment of intense pleasure with someone who understood them. 

“And after this case?” Gil asks, voice still tense. “When we catch the sniper, what are you going to do?”

This time, it takes Ian a second to answer. He turns over to Malcolm when he does. “We’ll talk and go from there, as we’ve always done.”

Except they’ve never really talked about it. When it’s time for Ian to leave, he goes, and Malcolm lets him. 

They were never exclusive with each other anyway. 

Gil...doesn’t seem happy with that answer and neither does Jessica. They exchange glances, and Malcolm knows they’re disappointed in him. 

“Does Ainsley know about him?” Jessica asks.

“No.” Malcolm says immediately. Ainsley had some suspicions whenever he came home for the holidays, though she more or less commented how Malcolm looks good now that he’s getting laid. 

“Does your father…?”

“No, oh god no.” Malcolm reassures because the day his father finds out is the day Malcolm has changed his name for a second time and moved to the mountains. 

Jessica looks relieved, and she’s ready to stop the interrogation as she cuts into her food. “No questions for us, Agent?”

“It’s just Ian ma’am,” He says. “And uh, I’m a bit more preoccupied with our case for any other questions.”

“Oh, well none of that work talk during breakfast.” Jessica says. “I want everyone to enjoy their meal. Are you available for Thanksgiving Ian?”

Malcolm mutter’s an ‘oh my god’, one that Ian hears because he nudges Malcolm’s foot. A tap on the window catches their attention, and he sees JT parked right outside the restaurant. “And that’s my cue. Sorry to cut this short.”

Gil looks at his plate. “You’ve barely touched your--” 

“Pack it up for me, I’ll eat at home.” Malcolm stands and retrieves his jacket. He leans down and gives Ian a goodbye kiss on the lips. “Call me if anything comes up, but I should have JT back to you by noon.”

He rushes out the door and heads straight for JT’s car. “Thank you, thank you I will wire a hundred thousand dollars for this.”

JT looks amused, smiling as he takes another look in the restaurant to see who he was sitting with. “I take it the “meet the parents” talk was awkward?”

“Did Tally’s mom ask if you two were fucking?” 

JT snorts. “Good point.”

It’s only when they’re driving off, Malcolm realizes what he’s done. “Oh god.”

“What?”

“I kissed him.”

JT raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh?”

“I kissed Ian in front of my mother and Gil.”

“And...this is a problem because…?”

“I’ve never done a goodbye kiss, at least not in public, not with Ian. Sometimes he just leaves, or I leave. Oh my god I kissed him goodbye.”

JT clearly has no idea why he’s freaking out. Instead he pats Malcolm’s shoulder. “That’s rough bro.”

* * *

River View is a K-12 college preparatory school, and although private, tries to mask itself like a public high school to be more relatable to the general public. Kids are allowed their own clothes, so long as it fit the dress code, and it was an open campus instead of gated like most private schools. Though tuition is not as hefty as some of the other private schools, an entrance exam and fee is required. Malcolm had been attending since he was a kid, but the problem with schools attended by rich families is rumors spread, fast. It didn’t take long for students and parents to realize Malcolm’s relationship with The Surgeon, hence why he transferred to Remington by his senior year. 

Boy, does Malcolm regret that. 

His time at River View was lonely but not as eventful as Remington when it came down to his trauma. Maybe if he stayed in River View he wouldn’t have added claustrophobia to his baggage list. 

By the time they arrive at the school, students are in class. Principal Connie allows them in when Malcolm drops his mother’s maiden name and the donations she makes; she also gives Malcolm the yearbook from 2005 and 2006. Malcolm leads JT to the cafeteria, the one place his dreams keep taking him. 

“So...wasn’t it weird?” JT asks once they enter. The cafeteria is large and scattered with circular tables and benches- when he attended they were rectangles. The kids were also allowed to eat outside, though outdoor seating was only open during the fall and spring quarters of school, as winters were too harsh to allow kids to eat outside then.

“Being back? Yeah, a bit.”

“That, and dating Edgerton. I mean the resemblance to Gil wasn’t distracting?”

“Oh, I mean at first," Malcolm admits. “But he and Gil are two really different people, and I mean have you ever seen Gil shaven?”

JT takes a moment to think about it. “I guess not. Still I cannot believe he has an actual doppelganger also in law enforcement. He good to you?”

“Ian?”

“Yeah.” JT looks at him, waiting for his answer. From the way he stares at Malcolm, he’s trying to make out if Malcolm’s going to lie to him.

But Malcolm can’t lie, because he thinks about Ian and what they have, even if it isn’t a traditional relationship in the slightest. A smile forms on Malcolm’s face as he observes the cafeteria. “Yeah, yeah he is. I get he’s a bit of a hardass, but he’s good.”

“Good.” JT says, satisfied with his answer. He takes the yearbook from Malcolm and flips through it. “Okay, so I know you said you don’t remember much, so why here?”

“Just a hunch.” Malcolm admits. “I’ve been having these weird dreams since meeting with Woodsen, they’re always in here. Like, okay, you know how kids have their cliques and bullies? In private schools it’s almost worse--we’re already rich brats but here that’s not enough. We got to outrank the other rich kids.”

JT snorts. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, I mean if I already wasn’t The Surgeon’s son I was also well…” Malcolm just gestures to himself. “I was kicked during PE, shoved around in the halls, ignored during group projects, mocked at when I walked by, but my dreams take me here. Something happened here, to me at least, where the victims were involved.”

Malcolm points to the table by the window, where the popular kids ate. “In my dreams I see Blair, Kathy, Henry, and Carson. There are three other faces I can’t make out.” 

“They were all friends right?” JT asks. “Well, I guess Kathy and Blair had the falling out but at the time they were all friends.”

Malcolm looks over his shoulder and sees where they would buy their food. He walks over to it, pretending to hold a tray in his hand. “So I take my food, I start walking to the back corner over there, to do so I walk past the popular table.”

“God knows why you’d do that.”

Malcolm shrugs. “I pass their table, and someone trips me.” He fake stumbles on the ground, landing on his knees. “They’re laughing, I’m the dumb kid who spilled his lunch. But every time in the dream, someone helps me up.”

JT raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I know, but that’s not the weird thing- because I wake up like I’m falling. You know, those dreams where you fall backwards?”

“Don’t I know it.” JT says.

“Okay, stand...” Malcolm points just a foot away from him. “Yeah, okay so you hold your hand out, and I take it.”

They do just that grips JT’s hand and he stands. “But then I fall on my back. Why would I fall on my back?”

JT shrugs. “I mean if I push you you’d fall.”

Malcolm’s eyes widen. “Yes! You’re right! JT Push me.”

“What? No. You’re in a brace and you have stitches.”

“So if I was healthy you’d push me?”

“Not that hard.” JT admits. 

Malcolm doesn’t fall, but he does sit back down and lies on his back. “So I’m back on the floor. Whoever helped me shoved me back, so there’s another person in that clique. I just...can’t remember anyone.”

But he knows someone who might. Someone whom he talked about his life with and remembers every detail. The man who didn’t want him to leave his school, and was right about Remington. 

Said devil decides in that moment to call.

“Huh, this could save us a trip to Claremont.” Malcolm says as he answers. “Hello father. You’re on speaker.”

“ _Malcolm my boy! Speaker? You’re on a case? I thought you would be resting.”_

The best thing to do is just lead the conversation in his direction. “Do you remember when I attended River View, the year before I transferred?”

_“Of course! It was a good school, you didn’t need Remington. I mean name change was fine but Remington--”_

“Did I ever mention anyone, here? Maybe someone who picked on me?”

Martin pauses, thinking. They can hear his restraints so he’s moving around his cell. “ _Hm, sorry son you were miserable there. After your fallout with Vijay you stopped talking about friends, but you never spoke ill of anyone, my poor boy was still trying to be the nice kid.”_

“Aw,” JT says, and Malcolm gives him a pointed look.

“ _Who’s that? That doesn’t sound like Dani or Gil. The other cop, he doesn’t go on TV often--hello there! I’m Martin. How’s my son doing?”_

“Father,” Malcolm says. 

“ _Sorry my boy, we used to tell each other everything.”_ He says with a fond sigh, “ _But you were always so reserved about your adolescent social life. You weren’t even excited about prom!”_

“Nothing to be excited for.” Malcolm deadpans. 

_“You know why I preferred River View? Well, I didn't prefer it, I think public school would have been fine for you--it’s big enough that you wouldn’t have stood out especially a New York Public school-- but River View was a mix. It accepted kids of any income.”_

“Did it?” JT asks. “How? The tuition is as much as a state college.”

“ _Ah, well observed Mr. Secret Detective!”_ Martin whimsies. “ _But they accepted a handful of middle to lower class kids from the lottery program. To make them look more...diverse as they say. It’s why they held that fundraiser every year, to pay for the lottery spots.”_

Malcolm does remember the fundraiser, some kind of dinner and a ball that’s mostly for the parents benefits. He recalls his mother attending them, but Malcolm and Ainsely maybe went once or twice. 

“Let’s ask the principal for a list of lottery kids.” Malcolm tells JT. 

“What do they have to do with it?”

“Well, I was bullied for being related to...him, despite my mother’s income.”

“ _Which I have apologized for, my boy.”_

“But think about it, lottery kids in a prestigious and expensive school? They’d be targets too, and the killer said “I’m sorry we didn’t help you.” They knew I was being bullied, maybe they were sympathizers, or they were hurt too and didn’t do anything then.”

It’s all leaps, but it’s the only thing Malcolm has. 

JT just shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt to check.”

“ _Oh Malcolm! When will you be visiting? I was wondering if--”_ Malcolm hangs up.

JT raises an eyebrow and Malcolm shrugs. “Best...to keep it short with him.”

“Noted.”

Once they have the list of lottery acceptances from that year, Malcolm and JT go through the victim’s social medias, to see if they overlapped since graduating. 

The beauty of social media, and those obsessed with it to keep up appearances, is that they share _everything_. Facebook was still fairly new when Malcolm was in high school, and luckily the victims seemed to use it quite frequently after the fact to archive their lives before Facebook was launched. Fourteen years later they still update their movements, which while helpful for detectives, very bad if it’s an assailant looking for their victim. 

After scrolling for a while, Malcolm's finally able to draw a connection line between most of the victims. Woodsen and Thornton stayed in touch obviously, but included in their photos is the daughter of the Graystones, another family from old money. They’re seen vacationing together, commenting on each other’s posts. Going back to 2006 Malcolm also finds pictures with Kathy Simmons, and a girl named Emily McKenna.

McKennas were new money, though Malcolm cannot recall what either parents did to warrant the wealth they accumulated. They weren’t around the socialite spotlight often compared to the other families. 

“Graystone and McKenna weren’t on Edgerton’s previous list.” JT says. 

“No, it looks like they also had a falling out with McKenna, sometime before graduating.” He clicks on McKenna’s page. She never updates her account, except for one entry from two months ago that reads ominous. 

“ _My love was taken from me fourteen years ago. I will never love anyone the same. They hurt so many. I’m sorry we didn’t do anything to help_.” Malcolm reads. “It’s tagged with a name: Caleb Ashur. This status was about two months ago.”

“Ashur...wait that’s…” JT runs it down the list of scholarship kids, and then finds his picture in the yearbook. “Yeah, there he is.”

JT points to a boy, 17, with floppy brown hair and freckles. He’s wearing a nicely collared shirt, and his smile showed he had braces. 

“They don’t have pictures together on facebook.” Malcolm says. “But he’s the only Caleb Ashur.”

He clicks on Caleb’s tagged photo, and a solemn message is the first thing to pop up. 

_We are saddened to say our beloved Caleb has passed away. He has been in a medically induced coma for 14 years battling a brain hemorrhage, but as of tonight his fight is over. He was a wonderful son whose future was taken so young. We will miss you Caleb._

“Shit man,” JT sighs. “Did they say what happened?”

Malcolm tries to scroll through Caleb’s page, but he’s never posted anything himself. He’s tagged in a few posts, mostly text memes, and then there’s one tagged that it was taken in 2005. 

It’s the bench outside the lunch room, a girl with blonde hair sits on his lap while he holds her by the waist. She’s kissing his cheek and he’s smiling brightly. The girl, Malcolm sees, is tagged as Emily McKenna. 

With the two of them together, everything's falling into place. He closes his eyes, and thinks about that day. 

Malcolm just paid for his lunch, a chicken wrap with sauce, a side of corn as veggies, and a carton of soy milk. Most of the kids are busy talking to each other, they don’t see him. He sees Vijay pack up his bag and gestures to his friends to go outside. He’s on the soccer team at this point, and he gives Malcolm a sorry glance before walking out. Malcolm doesn’t let it bother him. 

He starts to walk when Henry Thornton of the popular table looks up and notices him. JT’s at the table too, still absorbed on his phone. Henry whispers over to his girlfriend, Blair. Emily sits next to Blair; she’s looking at him but isn’t smiling the same way her friends are. Malcolm ignores them. He’s used to people talking about him.

What he doesn’t see is Henry’s foot sticking out, because Malcolm’s just trying to focus on his table. He trips over and spills his lunch on himself and the ground. Everyone’s laughing at him.

A hand sticks out to help him up. It’s not Vijay, he’s long gone by now, and instead it’s Caleb. He’s taller than Malcolm but just as skinny, and he actually looks concerned. Malcolm takes his hand and he stands up. But Caleb looks at the popular table, like they’re waiting for him to do something. Then, Caleb pushes Malcolm back on the ground, landing on his spilled lunch, and everyone laughs at him again. 

That day, Malcolm ran out in tears, it was the last straw. Years of ridicule for his father’s mistakes only pushed him to isolation. Malcolm begged his mother to pick him up and spent the afternoon convincing her to let him transfer schools. He doesn’t see Martin again until his mother confirms he was accepted into Remington, and he can legally change his last name. 

“Bright? Bright?” Malcolm jerks awake. JT’s hand is on his shoulder, gently shaking him. “You okay bro?”

“Caleb. He pushed me. He helped me up and he pushed me back down--I-I think to impress the popular kids?”

“Okay, but you said you transferred out 2005, so the spring semester would have been your last. When was Caleb comatose?”

For all the repressed memories Malcolm has shoved in a box, hurting Caleb was not one of them, he knows. The only person he’s ever hurt was in Remington, and he’s vowed never to do that again. “Fourteen years would have to be 2006--their senior year. What the hell happened?”

“Was Principal Connie in her position when you went to school here?”

“Yeah, she was.”

“Think she knows?” 

* * *

“Caleb was in a terrible accident.” Principal Connie says in a tone that is too sweet, and too polite for Malcolm’s comfort. JT crosses his arms, also disbelieving her story. “On his way to school a speeding car hit him, and he was in a coma.”

They’re in her office, her territory. She sits at her desk, her hands folded together. She tells this story like it’s rehearsed. 

“Yeah, no.” JT says, leaning back in his seat. “What really happened?”

“Excuse me?”

Malcolm shakes his head. He doesn't want to be here any longer than they have to. “It wasn’t an accident, whatever happened to Caleb. Now I get it, this is a prestigious private school and when bad things happen it makes you look bad. Most public schools are used to that kind of reputation, but River View allowed lower income families in on lottery scholarships. I bet the pretty rich kids weren’t happy kids got in for free when their parents had to pay, hm?” 

Connie gasps, offended by his words. “Mr. Bright, the children who attend this come from upstanding families, and those who test in have clearly earned their way.”

Malcolm scoffs. “Principal Connie, my name is Malcolm Whitley. My mother is Jessica Milton Whitley. Remember me yet?” 

The color in her face drains, now actually recognizing him. “Mr. Whitely? You---”

“I mean, clearly the teachers are aware of the immense bullying in this school, did you think I actually got my bruises from football practice when I didn’t play? But this isn’t about me, well it is but not really, because if I had it bad, I know the lottery kids had it worse. They were accepted into a preparatory school, meant to help their futures, and yet they were harassed every day until they graduated, or left.”

“How many kids dropped out, because they didn’t meet the social status of these upstanding kids?” JT asks. It’s a bluff, they’re not actually sure the amount of lottery kid drop outs, but if they can spin the issue towards the school’s inability to protect their students they can push her for the truth. “Surely I’d love to read that on the news, and I mean after the admissions scandal for colleges…”

Malcolm snaps his fingers. “I do wonder that, first rich kids bully low income kids, now rich kids pay their ways into schools? Didn’t one admission scandal student graduate from here?” 

Connie purses her lips and glares at Malcolm. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Fine, don’t answer us. Just know you are impeding on an on-going investigation, and I can instead charge you with obstruction of justice.”

There’s a call on Connie’s desk phone. Still leering, she answers on speaker. “Yes, Helen?”

“Ma’am, you have Dr. and Mrs. Hodgins waiting for their 12 o’clock appointment.”

Sighing, she says. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.” She rubs the sides of her forehead before composing herself. 

_“_ Then charge me detectives, but we have nothing here to help whatever you are looking for. Caleb was in a terrible accident, and I do not see why that’s pertaining to your investigation now.” She gestures to her door, and unable to do more they leave. 

After another second they finally do, but because Malcolm is feeling particularly petty he says, loudly, when they pass by the parents: “Ugh, terrible curriculum. Honey we cannot allow our daughter here! I think Trinity High School is the one.”

JT suppresses a smile when he sees the parents shocked faces, and they walk a little faster when they hear Principal Connie’s chair screech. It’s when they turn down the hall, towards the exits, is when they let the reality hit that they got nothing out of that. 

“What now Bright?” JT asks. 

Malcolm shrugs. “I don’t know, if Caleb’s ‘accident’ isn’t related to this we’re just wasting time.”

“It’s definitely related.” JT says. “If all the victims were friends his accident has to be related somehow.” 

As they pass by the rest of the admin rooms of the hallway, a door opens and someone calls out for them. “Oh detective, you look a little ill there.”

Opened are the sliding doors of the nurse’s office, and Malcolm smiles brightly as he recognizes the woman still working there after all these years. “Nurse Mercado.”

Nurse Mercado was a nursing student at the time of her employment, back when Malcolm was still a teenager. He expected her to have moved on, but from what he quickly sees inside, she’s personalized the office. There’s a certificate on the wall indicating she completed her nursing degree in 2006 and has been here since. She was also the only faculty member who was nice to Malcolm. She never listened to the rumors about him, and let him hide out in her office if he needed a break from the other kids. She reminded him a lot of Jackie, not just by her looks but her kindness. 

She recognizes him too. “Malcolm, you shouldn’t be walking around looking feverish. I’m sure your husband will take you straight to bed after this visit.”

Before JT can correct her she pulls them both into her office and closes the door. “How long have you had this cold Mr. Whitley?” She asks, loudly.

“It’s Mr. Bright now, actually.” He says to fill the air. “A few days, but I assumed allergies.”

She’s rummaging through a drawer, pulling out a light, a throat popsicle stick, and a face mask for herself. 

“Well it is flu season, and with the big basketball game coming up we can’t risk exposure to students.” Then she pulls out what looks to be a manila folder, stuffed with something thick. She brings it all to the exam table, shoving the envelope into JT’s hands. He quickly hides it in his coat, crossing his arms to hold it in place while she works on Malcolm.

“Hm, you’re right maybe it’s just allergies. There’s some fluid build up so drink plenty of water.” She turns to JT. “Make sure he does, or else I’ll find you for not taking care of my favorite patient.”

JT smiles. “Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Malcolm says, quieter. She gives him the same understanding and gentle smile and pulls him into a hug. 

He wants to ask her why she’s stayed, what else did she know, and has it gotten worse since he’s left? But with the Principal already short with them, he doesn’t want her to get in trouble, and whatever is in the file is something she probably had to hide until now. If there’s anything Malcolm learned the hard way, it’s that these types of schools will do anything to hide a scandal, even at the expense of their own students. 

JT looks out the door and signals Malcolm to come out. The Principal is still in her office but her secretary comes out. Malcolm and JT quickly make their way to the exit, and some new information tucked away in JT’s coat. 

* * *

The files they have makes Malcolm’s stomach sick. JT doesn’t look too good either, but they don’t talk about it until they get back to the precinct. It looks like another dud search for Ian and Dani as they come in empty handed. 

Malcolm takes to the board and writes Emily’s name in their suspect pool.

On February 14th 2006, Caleb Ashur and Emily McKenna were found beaten by the school’s swimming pool. Security camera caught footage of Caleb and Emily, along with Blair Woodsen, Henry and Carson Thornton, Kathy Simmons, and Sasha Graystone sneaking in for a swim, when they began beating Emily and Caleb. The girls are seen kicking Emily in the stomach, while Carson holds Caleb down, and Henry punches his face into the tile floor. The five of them leave, and before the tape ends, Emily crawls to Caleb before passing out. 

“Jesus christ.” Ian says, covering his face with his hand. 

“Why did we not know about this?” Gil asks. “That isn’t just some punk kids playing a joke they almost _killed_ him.”

“Did.” Malcolm says. “Two months ago Caleb passed away in a coma.”

The resemblance of hope and wanting to see the good in people passes through Dani. She shakes her head and leans on a conference chair. “So what, the school covered it up?”

“It’s what they always do.” Malcolm says. “Everyone besides Caleb came from prestigious families, few extra thousand dollars, and that video tape has been sealed away.”

Originally supposed to be destroyed, actually. From Nurse Mercado’s notes, the tape was reviewed and sent to be destroyed after the payoff. Then it suddenly “disappeared”, but for the families so long as it didn’t see the light of day they didn’t look further. 

Dani shakes her head. “They just said he got hit by a car? What about Emily?”

“That’s the stupidest part.” JT says, showing one of the official documents signed supposedly from an officer at the time. Malcolm doubts that signature is from an actual officer, and if it was they were paid off too. “Claims Caleb had beaten her, the abusive former-public school boyfriend.”

“No, no.” Dani shakes her head. “That’s so stupid they can’t--”

“But they did. Caleb’s family didn’t have the money to press charges, and it looks like Emily didn’t come back to school after that. The other families hid it well, their kids got to graduate and live their successful lives while Caleb wasted away.”

As solemn as the story is, there’s still a killer out there, and right now Emily McKenna fits all the boxes in terms of motivation. 

Gil calls out their next plan of attack. “JT and Dani, find the Ashurs and confirm this story, see how they were paying for his medical bills and look to see if anyone in the family may show signs of revenge. Edgerton, see if you can find anything on Emily McKenna. If she’s our sniper she has to be trained some how, or maybe she’s hiring someone that skilled. Talk to Jessica, she may know how to get in touch with the family.”

Malcolm’s ready to walk with Ian when Gil calls after him. “Bright, you’re with me.” 

He hesitates and turns to Ian, who only smiles. “I got this kid.” He says and kisses his forehead. Ian’s out the door with Dani and JT. 

“So? What are we doing?”

“We are going to find the Graystones, if they’re still in town maybe there’s a way we can protect them. With Thornton, Woodsen, and Simmons, gone, it seems like she may be next.”

The thought process makes sense, so he sits by Gil’s desk and pulls up his phone, trying to find any activity or indication the Graystone’s daughter is in town. One search for the name and their jewelry line comes up, as well as Sasha Graystone’s Instagram. Unlike her friends, Sasha’s found a career in Instagram modeling and sponsorships, while her fiancé runs a business that Malcolm is sure is a multi-level-marketing scheme.

“Looks like their daughter lives out of state but she’s recently come back home, with her fiancé.” Malcolm says, showing her most recent Instagram photo. She’s with her fiancé, taking a picture by the statue of liberty. “They're heading to her childhood home but-- shit.” Malcolm notices a story highlight titled ‘wedding planning’, “she’s going to be married in the next two days.”

“And the previous shootings took place in a public setting. Let me guess, outdoor?”

“A high rise wedding by the waterfront.” Malcolm confirms as one highlight indicated the location. “We should talk to them.”

“We will,” Gil says, hesitantly. “But Malcolm, can we talk, it’ll be quick?”

Shit, of course he’d still want to talk about breakfast. Malcolm stays seated across from Gil. “Sure, what’s up?”

“About this morning…” Gil starts. “I’m sorry about the ambush. Jessica called uh, frantic, about finding Edgerton in your bed.” Malcolm winces. He expected his mother to gossip over what she saw, but part of Malcolm hoped Gil simply wouldn’t have brought it back up. “And... she asked why I was letting my ‘brother’, excuse my language, fuck her son.”

“Which, we’ve already established you and Ian aren’t related.”

He notices the little twitch Gil has whenever Malcolm says Ian’s name, specifically his first name. “I didn’t realize you and Edgerton were together. You’ve never said anything, even when Jackie and I used to visit you.”

That was by sheer luck on Malcolm’s part. Ian just happened to be out on a case whenever they were in town. Early in his life in DC, as Malcolm was still in training and the newbie, most of his cases stayed local. He was never gone for weeks at a time, allowing Gil and Jackie, or his mother and Ainsely, to visit without taking time off. “We weren’t always together.” Malcolm says, as there is truth to that excuse. 

“Malcolm.” Gil says, his voice gentle, “I’m not your father, or your parent, so I won’t judge. From the way it sounds, you and Ian are just having fun, right?”

“That’s not...inaccurate.” Malcolm says. 

“You’re an adult, and was an adult when you two started, so long as you’re being safe your relationships are as you set it. He treats you well, right?”

Malcolm chuckles. “JT asked the same thing. Yes, he does.”

A wave of relief washes over Gil’s face. “Good. And are you two…”

“Gil, is now the right time?” Malcolm asks. “I mean, we should find Graystone right?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry kid I just--” Gil puts on a fake smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Know where to find them?”

“Unfortunately I do, she just posted she’s about to do a fitting of her dress in the next twenty minutes.” Her story includes the name of the shop. If she wasn’t a target already, this would make it too easy for Emily. 

Malcolm and Gil make it to the shop in just ten minutes. They don’t see Sasha Graystone from their immediate view but a hostess is by the register, writing in a book. They enter the store, and Gil flashes his badge. The receptionist points to the dressing room, and just a few steps in they hear Sasha complaining. 

“I don’t understand, I asked for eggshell white, this is white!”

“Ms. Graystone we--”

Malcolm politely knocks on the wall, but they don’t enter. “Ms. Graystone, we’re with the NYPD, may we talk to you?”

“Ugh, fine just come in.” She says, and when Gil and Malcolm hesitate, she clicks her tongue. “I have lingerie shots on my Instagram, get in here I’m busy.” 

Shrugging, the two walk in and find Sasha with half a wedding dress on. 

“Sasha, are you aware of what happened to Kathy Simmons and Blair Woodsen?” Malcolm asks.

“Kathy, haven’t spoken to, but yeah I saw the news on Blair. We talked briefly, but she was still drugged up.” 

“Will she be attending your wedding?” 

Sasha grunts as she tries to wiggle out of the dress. “Supposed to, she’s my maid of honor, but I doubt she’d be standing on time. Fuck, now Alicia has to stand in her place. She’s pretty but not Blair pretty.”

Clearly her priorities are not in the right place. “Miss, we believe the attacks on Kathy and Blair are related, and we think you’re next.”

Sasha only scoffs. “Listen, what happened to Blair sucks, but I tend to get a few freaks threatening me.”

Gil raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you two don’t do Instagram huh? That’s what happens when you’re a model, get those weirdos in your DMs. Sometimes there’s a threat but I just block them. Or expose them on my story, makes for a great laugh later.”

It makes Malcolm wonder if Emily has ever sent a message, even if it was through a burner account. “Has any of the threats ever stuck out to you?”

“They’re either asking for my nudes or threatening rape because I didn’t reply to them. Lot of us girls get this shit.”

He doubts then that those messages came from Emily, even if she used a fake account. Her attacks on her bullies came without a warning, so she wouldn’t try to contact them beforehand. 

“Does the name Emily McKenna or Caleb Ashur ring a bell?”

She freezes on the pedestal she’s standing on, and fear sets in her face. Bingo. 

Sasha turns to them with a fake, ignorant smile. “No, should it?”

“Interesting.” Gil says as he crosses his arms. “Because, we have a video tape from fourteen years ago that says otherwise.”

Sasha practically kicks the dress aside, but even if she’s standing in just her bra, panties, and a set of pantyhose, she tries to keep her composure. However, her voice cracks when she talks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, we can’t charge you, unfortunately for us the statute of limitations for what you and your friends did has passed a long time ago. But it was because of that incident that Kathy and Blair were targeted. You are next.”

“So what are you asking?”

“Until we catch her,” Gil says, “We recommend you stay under protection.”

“And postpone the wedding?”

“Sasha it’s about--”

“I have been planning this for _years_ , not only that we have over three hundred guests showing up and already in town, what I’m supposed to tell them to just go home? Besides, Emily is _dead_.”

Gil and Malcolm look at her with surprise. “What?”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Okay, not dead-dead, but she _left_ after her boyfriend’s accident. She didn’t graduate with us. Last I heard she joined the marines, but you know how that goes.”

“Uh...right.” Malcolm says. “But we insist on your safety, and the safety of your guests and fiancé, to postpone.”

Sasha huffs, and gives them a childish pout as she grabs her shirt and skirt. “My wedding is happening, whether you like it or not. I mean you’re the police, so catch her before she gets to me.”

“Which is what we’re doing but--”

“Then I’ll hire my own security.” She decides. “I have the money. Thank you for the warning detectives, but I have a dress to fix.”

There is nothing more they can do. They got the message out, but being too stubborn to prioritize her safety, Gil and Malcolm have no choice but to leave. 

“Think Blair’s going to show up to the wedding?” Gil asks.

Malcolm shakes his head. “Even if she recovered physically I doubt she’d be okay going. Her husband just died. Let’s call Ian and see if he’s--”

Malcolm’s cell phone rings with Ian’s name. “Oh speak of the...not devil.” He muses. “Hey Ian how’s--”

“ _Why can’t you just let me do this Malcolm?”_

Malcolm freezes where he stands, and despite being in a brace, he feels his hand quiver. “Emily?”

Gil quickly takes out his phone, already calling Dani and JT. 

“ _They need to know what they did to us. They need to know what they made me lose.”_

Malcolm takes a long, deep breath, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “Emily, I understand. I saw the tapes and I am so sorry for what happened. But this isn’t the right way.”

_“No, no it’s not enough. I lost everything that night, and they just walked off. I’m going to finish this, please don’t try and stop me.”_

“Emily, where’s Ian?” Malcolm asks, his voice growing desperate. “Please he’s just trying to help too.”

There’s a pause, and Malcolm tries to listen closely to the background noise. He hears someone moving, but unlike the first call it’s quieter. 

_“He's fine. Unlike Sasha I'm not a killer.”_

She hangs up, and Malcolm feels himself spiraling. It’s happening again, Ian’s taken from him, and he can’t do anything except watch him get hurt. It’s the cover up all over again, seeing him in prison, desperate to get out--

“Malcolm!” Malcolm jolts, and in front of him is Gil. Gil’s hands are on his shoulders, keeping him grounded. “I have techs at the precinct checking on his phone, but for now let’s go to the last place he was at.”

His breath is staggered, but Malcolm manages to say the location. “McKenna's...he was going to their home to--mother knows--”

“I’ll call Jessica.”

He somehow makes it into Gil’s car, and after a quick text his mother provides the McKenna’s last known address. Malcolm’s head is spinning with every possible scenario Ian has gotten himself into, and he’s spiraling down to a darker thought. The profile was wrong, he underestimated Emily. She’s desperate, and she’s hurt Ian. 

In a blur they arrive at the McKenna’s last known address, a now decrepit townhome that looks to be abandoned. Ian’s rental is parked right outside it, while another car, JT’s, pulls up and the two cops jump out. 

“She may still be here.” Gil warns them. “Bright stay in the car--”

“I have to see him.” Malcolm says. “I’m sorry Gil.” 

He enters the home first, and immediately takes a step back when a support beam falls into the broken hardwood floor. Graffiti stains the walls, cobwebs hang as décor, and the smell of trash and mold linger in the air. It’s been abandoned for a long time, and it’s also a major safety hazard with every creak and crack heard just by breathing. 

Malcolm walks up the staircase and notices a fallen beam from the ceiling. There’s blood on it, and the blood drags into a bedroom. He rushes inside and finds Ian knocked on the ground. His hands and feet are bound with old wires, and he has a gash on his head but the bleeding has stopped. His cell phone lays by his side. There’s a streak of blood from the entrance way to the middle of the room, right where Ian is.

“I found him!” Malcolm calls out. He rushes over to Ian’s side and removes the duct tape. He holds Ian’s face in his hands, feeling for a pulse, for any signs that he’s okay. 

He hears Dani and JT come into the room. One of them takes out their phone and dials for medics. 

“Ian, Ian wake up.” Malcolm whispers over him. 

“Room’s clear!” Gil calls out as he enters as well. They just missed her.

Malcolm vaguely hears the sirens in the distance, but he can’t leave Ian’s side. “Come on Edgerton, you wouldn’t let your prey get to you like this huh?” When Ian groans, Malcolm lets out a muffled sob. “There you are, you asshole.”

Ian tries to sit up, but Malcolm rolls him onto his back. “Stay, medics are coming soon.”

“Mal…?” Ian manages out. 

He hears Dani call out to a medic. Malcolm moves aside as he allows them to do their job. But he keeps his eyes on Ian, not letting go of his hand until he’s lifted on the stretcher. 

“I-can I go with him?” Malcolm asks. 

“Yeah kid,” Gil says.

Emily is still out there, but right now he needs to be by Ian’s side. He follows the medics into the ambulance. Inside he takes Ian’s hand again, afraid to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments mean the world to me! Please please please talk to me about Prodigal Son [here on twitter](https://twitter.com/Das_Hazel) . I also may be hosting a numb3rs watch party soon so if you're interested hit me up there! :D I just want to stare at Ian Edgerton and sigh fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> Please for the love of everything talk to me about Malcolm Bright[here](https://twitter.com/Das_Hazel)
> 
> but also talk to me about how Ian Edgerton only had 9 episodes and that's not fair. he's so pretty he should have been a main character in Numb3rs.


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